To pretendi'mnothere
by Sookie's Secret Santa
Summary: Love from Sookie's Secret Santa xXx


_Any author's notes from the person who wrote this gift fic have been removed to prevent any identifying information being revealed. The individual author can post this story to their own profile, complete with intended A/Ns, after the 26th December. We hope this gift fic is enjoyed by all – but mostly for the person it was written for. Thank you to this author for taking part in the first Sookie's Secret Santa fic exchange. Due to the number of participants it will be impossible to post all of the stories in one day - don't worry, everyone will get their gift before Christmas Eve :o)_

_Santa's little helpers_

_Blakes Boogie & Jan of Arc xx_

**Title: Lucky**

**To: ****pretendi'mnothere**

**Summary: It's Christmas time in the city, and Sookie shares a Southern tradition for good luck in the New Year with her skeptical friends who seem to fear that hers has run out. **

The three women circled a fourth ominously. Their gait was syncopated, predatory. As they closed in on their apparent prey, she began to cower. I stopped the music and massaged my temple. It was all wrong.

"Sorry. Can we try that again from the top ladies?"

The four rolled shoulders and necks, shook out muscles, and strode back to their original spots with feline grace.

"Tara, this time I'd like you to strike a defiant posture. Don't be a victim – meet the three with a challenging stare."

After a few more notes and adjustments, I started the music again and watched the four dancers power through the second half of the piece. It was the end of our rehearsal time and their energy was flagging, but I felt we'd made some progress in at least a couple of the more problematic spots of the dance piece. The last note of the music rang through the studio then gradually faded until all that could be heard was the labored breathing of the dancers and traffic from the street below.

"That seemed to work a little better. How'd it feel?"

"Better, but still not natural," Tara replied with usual candor.

I nodded my understanding and glanced at my watch. "Well, our time is up. Thanks for a great rehearsal, ladies. I'll ponder the last act some more this week."

All four dancers moved to gather their belongings. It had been seven months since I'd begun developing the ballet. The last two months were spent rehearsing with dancers, and we had one month until our concert in a downtown dance festival. I was feeling the pressure.

"Oh!" I blurted. "I have a little something for each of you." I darted to my own soft pile of outerwear and dug through my tote for the four packages that by then were a little worse for wear after being dragged around the city with me all day.

"Awww, Sook - you shouldn't have." Amelia's toothy smile beamed from under her pixie cut.

I extended the package and gave her a hug.

"It's just a little something for luck in the New Year."

She ripped the paper off in a curling shred and her eyes widened in amusement. "Beans? Really, you shouldn't have."

"Ha, ha." I rolled my eyes. "They're actually black-eyes peas – it's a mix for Hoppin' John."

Her blank look made clear she'd never heard of the dish. By then Tara, Holly and Halleigh were bundled in heavy coats in preparation for the frigid temperatures and encircled me. I handed out the packages and explained.

"It's a Southern thing, and my Gran's recipe. Make this on New Year's Day – it'll bring you good luck for the coming year."

"Luck in the romance department?" quizzed Amelia with a glint in her eye.

I snorted thinking of her endless stream of dates. "Like you need luck."

She slung an arm around my shoulder as we headed to exit the studio, waving at the two dancers waiting to use the space.

"Actually, I was thinking if you've been eating these magic beans…"

"Peas," I corrected.

"If you've been eating this stuff every New Year and your love life is still dismal, then maybe I'd be better steer clear."

I shot her my best withering look. "A, it's not _that_ dismal….and B, there are other kinds of luck, you know."

"You've been single for like two years now, Sookie. At this point you're beyond needing luck – you just need to get lucky."

"Ladies, ladies," Tara came up between us and linked her arms through our elbows. "Enough quibbling. Shall we go get a drink?"

I shook my head. "Sorry guys, but it's late and I've got a lot of work tomorrow at the office."

"On Christmas Eve?" Amelia was always scandalized by the trials of those who had to actually work for a living. She worked erratic hours in a Soho boutique for a little mad money and a great clothing discount, but a healthy trust fund made her life as a dancer quite comfortable.

"Well, since choreography has yet to yield me piles of cash, I must slog away at my day job."

"Again, I wonder about the effectiveness of these magic beans."

"Peas."

"Whatever."

Later, on the subway platform, I took up my usual position against a steel beam thick with blue paint and pondered the troubled ending of the piece. My mind drifted back to the discussion about Hoppin' John. My brother and I had always eaten heaping bowls of the stuff on New Year's. Jason was convinced the amount of luck was directly related to the amount consumed, while I was concerned my luck would run out in April if I didn't eat enough.

For a split second I actually considered whether the theory of my youth had any merit. Perhaps I wasn't eating enough Hoppin' John these days to last through December, then snorted at the ridiculousness of the thought and shook my head to clear it.

I pulled my jacket closer around me and took a cursory scan of the people on the platform. Despite the later hour, the West Broadway station had a fair amount of traffic. I caught bits and pieces of conversation over the strains of a guy playing guitar further down the platform.

I returned my mind to the problems of the ballet until I recognized the song, "People Get Ready." A quick glance down the subway tunnel revealed an oncoming train and I couldn't help but grin appreciatively at the guitar player's sense of humor.

Moments later I was rumbling over the tracks toward home.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Merry Christmas, Gran!"

"You too, dear. I wish you were here in the flesh so I could hug you."

My throat tightened. "Me too, Gran." I was pouring every penny I had into mounting this ballet and didn't have a dime to spare. "Next year I'll be home for the holidays. I promise."

"What are you doing for Christmas dinner?"

"I'll stop by a restaurant before church. Whatever's open."

"Oh, Sookie. I don't like the thought of you by yourself on Christmas?"

I laughed at her concern. "I don't mind. A friend invited me to her family's home north of the city for Christmas dinner, but I decided to stay here by myself."

Gran clucked her tongue. I knew she was shaking her head in disapproval as she did it. "Alone on Christmas."

"Alone with seven million people," I smiled.

"Well…"

"I'll be fine, Gran. Please don't worry about me."

"It's my job."

I laughed at that and we spent the next few minutes talking about my dance project and some of the more interesting doings of the hometown folks before signing off. I was still basking in the comfort of a conversation with Gran when I ventured out to find a restaurant for dinner.

More restaurants were closed for the holiday than I'd anticipated, but finally I located a Greek diner with windows blazing and bedecked with enough garish holiday decor to put the Rockefeller Tree to shame. The other diners were smiling and talking between tables; it felt as though I'd walked into a party. The restaurant seemed to be packed with people like myself who were far from home, and the owner of the diner was greeting each person who walked through the door like family.

I was happily ensconced in a booth near the window with an industrial strength mug of coffee warming my hands when my eyes turned to at table of three guys across the diner rising to leave. The tallest of the three glanced briefly in my direction before swinging back with an expression of recognition that unnerved me. I shifted uncomfortably in my booth and glanced over my shoulder to see if he perhaps was looking at somebody over my shoulder, but the only thing behind me was a very large ficus tree hung with candy canes.

My mind raced in an attempt to place his bold features and shaggy blond hair, but I was drawing a blank. Surely if I'd ever met or even seen him before I would remember it; it wasn't a face one would likely forget. Clearly he had me confused with somebody else. Lucky lady, whoever she was.

I stirred cream into my coffee to keep from staring as he crossed the restaurant. By the time he reached my table it seemed I could practically hear my heart beating; I was confused. It wasn't everyday – make that _any_ day – that I was approached by a stranger who looked more likely to be in GQ than on America's Most Wanted.

"Merry Christmas," he said when I looked up. His mouth turned up in a grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Maybe he really was a serial killer, charming lonely girls before luring them to a sordid death.

I gave him back a tentative smile. "Merry Christmas to you too." A nervous laugh escaped me. "Uh, do I know you?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "West Broadway subway station? Thursday nights?"

I cocked my head and met his blue eyes in contemplation. My brow furrowed in confusion and I shook my head.

"I play the guitar there Thursday nights."

Comprehension dawned. "_You're_ the guitar player?" A grin spread across my face. "Your song choices always crack me up." My thoughts on the platform Thursday nights were usually wrapped up in contemplation of the previous rehearsal, but his songs invariably wormed their way into my subconscious and made me smile; they usually made some ironic commentary on what was going on in the world at the time.

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of my compliment. "I aim to please." His eyes darted to the empty seat across the table from me. "May I?"

My mouth opened for moment while I thought about the church service that started in twenty minutes then recovered my manners and gestured to the seat. "Be my guest," I smiled. There was another service 10:30 p.m.

"I'm Eric, by the way."

"Sookie," I said extending my hand.

"Sookie," he repeated as though learning a foreign word. "Should we order some pie, Sookie?"

Three hours later and with enough coffee in my system to power a small town for a week, I left with a spring in my step and barely enough time to make the midnight service.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Four days later after a gratifying rehearsal, Amelia, Tara and I confirmed our plans for New Year's Eve on our walk toward the subway station.

"Beautiful," said Tara. "See you at Barbuto's at 9 then." A cab pulled over to pick her up and Amelia and I continued on.

"I'm jumping on the subway too. Octavia's meeting me uptown."

"Oh." I said. I was nervous and excited to see Eric again and wasn't sure I was prepared to have Amelia by my side when I did. We'd exchanged voice mails, but I had yet to speak with him since Christmas.

Amelia shot me a look. "Oh?" she said mimicking me. "What's up with you?"

I shook my head to clear it and breathed in deep to calm my nerves. "Nothing." I gave her my brightest reassuring smile. "Ignore me. I'm just preoccupied."

"Humph."

My pulse quickened and my palms began to sweat as we descended the steps to the platform. As nonchalantly as possible my eyes darted across the scattered crowd. Disappointment began to ball up in my chest until I heard the first notes. I let out a little breath of relief.

"Oh, I love this song!" said Amelia and pulled me in the direction of the source of the music.

I blushed when I heard the song I'd told Eric was one of my favorites.

"Criminy, would you look at that guy?" Apparently she'd caught sight of Eric.

I elbowed her to keep it down as Eric glanced up at me with a crooked grin then looked down again before I could react.

Amelia elbowed me right back. "Oh my God, he looked _right_ at you," she practically squealed. It was like high school revisited.

Between seeing Eric again and my loose cannon of a friend who seemed likely to embarrass me at any moment, my heart was racing at record speeds. I should have mentioned him to Amelia so she could try to exercise some subtlety, but it was too late for that. Plus, subtlety wasn't really her thing.

"I wonder if he's available for parties," she whispered leering at him. "Private parties."

"Ach. Stop Amelia," I hissed. "He's a composer."

Amelia's steely grip latched onto my upper arm.

"Back up the bus." Amelia stepped in front of me and fixed me with her "serious business" look. "You know him?"

"I've met him," I stammered and ventured a sideways glance at him.

"And you didn't tell me?" she looked wounded.

"It was just a couple of days ago, it's not like we've gone on a date or anything." We'd stopped out of earshot of Eric and any other passerby's.

She narrowed her eyes to evaluate me, and then pulled me into the ring of Eric's audience. When the song ended, he flashed a smile to the crowd through the applause then bent his head while he strummed the opening chords of the next song.

After a moment, the melody of "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" floated across the crowd. I swallowed hard and felt a flush of hopeful excitement color my face.

Amelia leaned in close to my ear. "Is he singing this to you?"

"I don't…" I began to stammer.

"Cause you're blushing like he might be."

"This coat's hot." I whispered lamely and pulled at the neck. "Plus, it's a seasonal song."

At that moment Eric looked up at me with an eyebrow clearly cocked in question.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely asking you out."

"But you, Tara and I already have plans for New Year's."

Amelia spun to me, "If you say no, I will _never_ speak to you again."

"But…."

"I'm serious. Do it for me," she implored. "Do it for women everywhere."

I laughed and looked up to find Eric had finished the song and was now standing just a couple of feet away.

"What are you going to do?" He asked with an amused expression after catching the tail of Amelia's sentence.

I breathed through my embarrassment. "Go for a run tomorrow," I lied at the exact moment Amelia blurted out, "Go out with you on New Year's."

My mouth hung open in shocked mortification and I wished the platform would swallow me up whole.

Eric looked at Amelia and grinned. "Excellent."

Amelia and Eric exchanged greetings while I attempted to recover a shred of self-possession.

"I actually have plans already with Amelia and our friend Tara."

Eric shrugged, unperturbed. "I've got two friends."

"Well," I smiled, "in that case, I'd love to."

In my peripheral vision I saw Amelia fight to control a fist pump. The whoosh of air at our backs signaled the approaching train.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised and resumed his position on the platform.

I smiled and boarded the train with Amelia. She was brimming with excitement and talking a mile a minute. Pumping me for information about Eric and speculating about his friends. When we approached her stop she gave me a bone-crushing hug and rushed off the train.

"Hey Sookie!" she called back to me through the open doors of the train, "Never again will I doubt your magic beans."

Before I could correct her terminology for the dozenth time, the doors closed, and she blew me an exuberant kiss. I sank into a seat.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face. Whether it was the universe's payoff for 28 years of Hoppin' John on New Year's or not, I was indeed feeling lucky.


End file.
